Ghost of Days Gone By
by Ilandere Okami
Summary: Kyle doesn't have to be an obnoxious nerd, Cartman an asshole, fatass loner, Stan a Goth, and Kenny a depressed lowlife. But they are, and all alone at that. Butters wishes they weren't though...and tries to change it all... Contains Kyman and Bunny.
1. Prologue: Stan

**Author's Notes: Alternate title? Butters Writes a Fanfiction. Haha, no. But it sort of seems like that...In a way, this is my own version of different paths ((yes, plural)) that things could ****have gone down after the mid-season break episode, "You're Getting Old."**

**To all my Death Note readers: I have been getting into the South Park fandom for quite some time now, and have recently decided to write a story based around it. It was greatly ****inspired by the story Ten Candies, which is awesome. There are many different ways that the "famous four" could have wound up. This story just offers a few different ways.**

**I have this whole story planned out, including an ending, and hope to actually finish it soon. I don't have too much time, what with school and extracurriculars, but I hope to still be able ****to work on this. This story shouldn't be too long, either, chapter-wise.**

**Now, Butters narrates only because I think he needs more credit. This story does support my favorite pairing, Kyman, as well as a secondary pairing I actually have been getting into, ****Bunny. There will be hints of Style because that's inevitable ((although I don't support it at all)). There will also be Stendy throughout for obvious canon reasons.**

**Warnings: Swearing, drug abuse, character death ((just Kenny; it's fine)), angst, avoidance of swears ((come on; it's Butters!)). Also, I will be using the fan-given names of the Goth ****kids.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or the song "Ghost of Days Gone By" by Alter Bridge, which I was listening to and realized how much it fit his idea in my head. That's actually what **  
><strong>prompted me to actually write this story. ^-^<strong>

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><p><em>I remember summer days, we were young and unafraid<br>With innocence we'd glide beneath the stars_

…

_Do you feel the same for what was remained  
>Yesterday is gone, we can't go back again<br>Do you ever cry for the ghost of days gone by_

~ "Ghost of Days Gone By" by Alter Bridge

_**~DAYS GONE BY~**_

I think that the reason we all drifted apart is that we just didn't try hard enough and didn't realize what we had until we lost it. Still, doesn't mean I was a part of whatever "we" had. Nah, it was really what "they" had. And I miss what "they" had. I miss the adventures they went on, which sometimes included me. I miss hanging out with them and them using me as a scapegoat—hey, that's still technically being with them in my book—and basically everything about them.

I miss watching their two-on-two basketball games and their video-game competitions. I miss helping them in their various schemes…Aw, hamburgers—I basically miss everything about them.

So, that's why I've decided to write a book. Yes, a book. I think I did fairly well with _The Tale of Scrotie McBoogerballs_ and _The Poop that Took a Pee_. The only problem was that I had a man kill the beautiful and wonderful Kardashians. Luckily, that shouldn't happen again because one, they're dead, and two, nobody is going to read this but the four I deem the most trustworthy—the four main characters.

Also, now that I look back at those two books, I've realized how stupid I was, thinking that those are really well written. No, this book, on my honor, will be well thought out, well written, and mature. And there will be no hidden meanings behind it that others can decipher but "I want my friends back how they were seven years ago."

And thus, I now begin a book that I've decided to call "Ghost of Days Gone By." I like it. It reminds me of our childhood days…

_**~DAYS GONE BY~**_

_Looking out over Starks Pond, alone with nobody to comfort him any longer, Stan Marsh came to a realization. Sure, everything he looked at or heard or smelled or tasted was pure, unadulterated shit, but that didn't mean that he couldn't be happy. He was a cynical bastard that deserved some sort of happiness in his life, right? Stan took a deep breath of the crappy air, spotted a few ducks spewing shit all over the pond, and stood up._

_Life sucked, sure. Heck, life is meant to be full of disappointments; that's what makes it living instead of dying. Well, dying wouldn't be that great either, but at least it was a final resting place—heaven or hell and no decisions or wrong turns or shit._

_Stan remembered something an old friend of his once said, something that made him realize that he was meant to face the hardships in his life instead of let them take him over. "I'd rather be a crying pussy than a faggy Goth kid." He smiled at the memory, the first smile he felt on his lips in ages. The days had passed with no happiness, even his dreams detesting him._

_He began walking back to his old neighborhood, where his old friend Kyle lived. He'd moved because of his parents' split. He missed his old house, missed his old neighbors. But then again, they were all shitty anyway. No, wait, he couldn't think like that. He had to accept the shit. Only then would he be able to look past it and…oh, who was he kidding? It was shit. All of it. He couldn't go back to Kyle. Not after what he'd done to him._

_But…he was already outside his door; he'd already rang the doorbell; he'd already heard Kyle's voice shout, "I got it!"_

_The door opened to a laughing Kyle. Stan could hear video game music in the background, meaning his old super best friend was playing with somebody else. Kyle stopped laughing abruptly when he took in his old friend. His eyes flashed in hurt before being overruled with anger._

"_What do you want?" he snapped at the cynical bastard. He didn't have time for Stan's weak attempts at "hanging out" with him and then complaining about everything with which they came in contact._

_Stan just stared at his old friend, not used to that anger being directed at him. He was used to it being directed at…_

"_Who is it, Kahl?" another voice called from further in the house. Speak of the devil…What was Cartman doing here? Was Kenny here as well?_

_Kyle paused to think over what he should say, sharing a look with Stan before shouting back, "Nobody, just some douche trying to sell me something." He turned back to Stan and muttered, "Like a fucking friendship, perhaps?" He almost closed the door in Stan's face, but the other spoke up._

"_Wait, Kyle, listen!"_

"_I don't want to listen to your lame excuses or your stupid—" Whatever actually came out of Kyle's mouth sounded like pure shit to Stan and he couldn't help it. Darn, and he'd gotten so far into this visit, too. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the exact words his old best friend was saying. "—away." Oh, crap, he only caught the end. But he understood basically what was being said._

_Again, he took another deep breath, and Kyle let him. "No. I realized something today, Kyle." Kyle rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, but motioned for Stan to continue. "Even though everything is pure shit to me and I can't like anything anymore because of that, and even though whatever you say sounds like shit to me—"_

"_Is there a point to this?" Kyle interrupted. He seemed to be getting quite annoyed._

_Stan stopped and squeezed the bridge of his nose in frustration. "What I'm trying to say is," he finally got out, "is that I don't think that my opinions on everything should stop us from being friends. If I try hard enough, I won't complain nonstop. I mean, most of what you've said today didn't seem _so_ shitty to me."_

_Kyle stared blankly at him, not believing a word of what he said. "We've given you way too many chances, Stan. It's over, alright? Even Cartman is nicer than you are now. Get over it and find yourself some not-so-shitty friends, alright?"_

_So the voice Stan had heard earlier _had_ been Cartman, the fatass. Was he seriously actually nicer than he was? Dude, coming from Kyle that must really mean a lot. "Dude!" he shouted at his once-best friend. "Cartman?"_

"_Yeah, what of it?" he answered defensively. "We're actually friends now. That's how much we hate your attitude."_

"_Wait, Cartman? _Eric_ Cartman?" Stan was utterly dumbfounded. He pushed his way inside the Broflovski house to see Cartman waiting impatiently on the couch, controller in one hand and the other hand dipped in a bowl of Cheesy Poofs. No Kenny was in sight, meaning it was just Kyle and Cartman alone in this house. How had they actually been laughing before? Stan thought they could never be in the same room together without chewing each other out in one way or another._

_He voiced these thoughts to both of them, now that Cartman saw exactly who had been taking up their precious gaming time. "You two hate each other! How can you actually be friends now? If I don't hear a fight coming from you two in the next ten seconds, I'm calling a mental institution."_

_Cartman and Kyle just stared at him in disbelief._

_Finally, Cartman stated, "He's your ex-boyfriend, you handle him." He then went back to playing in one-player mode, having saved his and Kyle's progress from earlier._

"_He was never my boyfriend!" Kyle ground out._

"_Yeah, yeah…faggots," Cartman replied, focusing on his game._

_Losing his temper completely, Kyle shouted, "I'm not gay, you fatass!" Stan breathed a sigh of relief at this. "Stan's right; we have no reason to be friends. So, get out of my house right now!" Stan actually smiled at this, but saw only shit coming out of Cartman's mouth when he responded. Either way, the fat kid heaved himself off the couch, flipped the two the bird and made the motions Stan always associated with "Screw you guys; I'm going home" even if that wasn't whatever it actually sounded like to him._

_Once the front door slammed shut, Kyle turned to the grinning Stan. He sighed. "I was being an idiot, wasn't I?" Stan only nodded before heading to the couch and grabbing Cartman's abandoned controller. Kyle followed and they sat in silence while flinging shit at each other on the screen…or at least, that's what Stan saw it as. Didn't mean it wasn't fun, though._

_**~DAYS GONE BY~**_

The smell of smoke invades my nose as I breathe in the air near the back of the school. I know it's a very bad idea to walk this way, but the back entrance is the quickest way to get to my first period class without going through the throngs of other students. It's not as if it's really that dangerous for me, anyway. Shucks, it just reminds me of bad things.

I hate seeing the kids that hang out back here. There's five of them, always shrouded in darkness and smoke. Their hair, clothes, nails, eyelids, and lips are all black. I think their lungs are as well. And of course, so are their souls. They spew poetry and cynical remarks on the world while they ingest toxic amounts of drugs.

"Hey, look, it's the little crying pussy," the tallest one, Evan, remarks moving some of his curly hair out of his face. He's two years older than I am, but has been held back because of his failing grades and is still a senior, like two of the others.

I bow my head, wanting to get through them without letting any tears escape. The worst part is that I don't cry because of their insults, but because of who throws them.

"Piece of shit," comes the usual insult from the one in the black hat, voice as monotonous as always. He holds a hand-rolled joint in his fingers and takes a puff from it before passing it to the only girl, Henrietta, who's already holding a cigarette. I hold back any tears that pool in my eyes, almost at the back door now.

With a dark laugh, the youngest, Gorgie—who skips school often to hang out with his elders, even though he actually still goes to junior high—chides, "Now, Raven, you don't need to state the obvious all the time. Doing that only releases the torment inside that feeds your empty soul."

Raven looks at me then, straight in the eye. I can't avoid the dead gaze he shoots me. His soul truly is empty; I can't see anything in those eyes anymore. He's completely gone, even under a different name. And that's why I hate walking this way. Because Stan's empty shell sits here, waiting to throw my thoughts into turmoil and remind me of all the memories we can never share again.

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><strong>Author's Notes: This first chapter is shorter than what the other chapters will be. It's sort of a prologue to everything. Every chapter ((or at least most of them)) will have an excerpt <strong>**from Butters's book, under the same title as this fic. They will also have something from what really happened, always Butters's point of view because this is sort of his story. However, ****he's very observant and therefore can pull in their thoughts even while narrating. This chapter, however, is still like an introduction.**

**You now understand the premise of what Butters is doing, and sort of understand what really happened after Stan got older. It's meant to be quite angsty and sad. I'm sorry if I didn't get ****any of the characters actually in character. I'm actually changing up the Goths, so don't say anything about them yet. Basically, once Stan rejoined them, he changed them...but not for ****the better.**

**I chose to do Stan first for the obvious reason of he's the one that triggers all this in the first place. He seems sort of like the leader. Either way, the next chapters will most likely contain ****excerpts of the book from later in their lives. Meaning that it will be the same time as Butters is living in, everyone being the same age. Make sense?**

**I hope you've enjoyed this! Also, tell me which character you want next, Cartman, Kyle, or Kenny. I'm unsure who to do next, so your opinions do matter! Also, any tips on making them ****more in character, if they're not? I'm trying to retain Butters while also maturing him. It's hard.**


	2. Chapter 1: Kyle

**Author's Notes: A huge thank you and hug to my one reviewer! I told you guys, I'm new to this fandom ((writing for it, at least)) and really would love to have your imput if this story is ****actually worth reading or if I'm just wasting my time. I honestly don't think I am. I really like writing this. So, please give me feedback!**

**This chapter is all about Kyle, Stan's super best friend...sorta. Okay, so you get some Cartman, but it was inevitable. You'll see, though you probably understand a bit more already. This ****chapter brings in the Kyman, just saying. If you really hate it, it's justified...as well as I can. Oh, and there's some Stendy...sort of...You'll see.**

**Going along with that, since I don't seem to be able to fully expain it in the story: Butters is bisexual. His parents don't know, luckily. They think he's been cured of his bicuriosity. You're ****gonna see a few hints to Bunny, but nothing too...big...at all.**

**Warnings: Not that much swearing or avoiding of swearing in this chapter, oddly enough. But still, sexual stuff and references to more than just kissing. And a bit of America-bashing. FBI, ****please don't come find me. This is Cartman, the Neo-Nazi we're talking about. ((God bless Lies My Teacher Told Me.))**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park. If I did, you'd see a lot more...slash. Okay, no, ew. They're 9-10 yrs old. I am not a pedo and I don't like shota. I don't own the song "Ghost of Days ****Gone By."**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

My math class consists of the brightest juniors and the above average seniors. Ever since elementary school, I've been fairly good at math. There aren't too many dedicated, smart students in South Park, so the class is made up of mostly seniors with a few of us juniors. Kyle and Eric are in class with me. Still, it's not like any of us talk.

Kyle is constantly focusing on the teacher and the textbook, hands never stopping taking notes. Eric sits in the back, doing his history or language homework. I don't know how he continues to stay in this class since his grades have been slipping since fourth grade. Kyle's the exact opposite, perfect straight-A grades since grade school.

I sit a few seats over from Kyle, front row, like always. I need to be able to pay attention to the teacher, even though I teach myself the lessons out of the math book at home when grounded. Things get pretty boring when you're stuck in your room all afternoon and evening. Clothes can only be folded, books read, and fantasies played out so many times before they become pretty boring.

I know Kyle will get into Harvard or Yale with his grades and dedication. I have no idea where I'm going to go, or even what I want to do. I guess writing would be a cool idea, but I still don't know if I'm that good at it. I don't even think Kyle knows what he's going to do. His father has gotten him summer internships at his office, but Kyle never seemed that enthusiastic about being a lawyer when we were kids. In fact, he even got a panda to stop his father from making tons of money from his job once.

Kyle and I have similar schedules, and thus, I follow him out the door as he speed-walks, head down, through the halls to our science class. AP, of course, even as juniors. My father pushes me, and so does his family. He sits at his usual desk, pulling out all the essential tools for class and then some. Always over-prepared.

With a soft sigh, I sit in the second row, in my usual seat, and get out the homework for today. It was on the challenging side, but I think I did a good job. Kyle seems over-confident in his work, as usual. And yet, he reads over it all again to make sure it's utterly perfect.

That's when I notice it's not the homework he's reading over, but an extra credit research paper due at the end of the week. I'm turning mine in on the day that it's due. I thought it was smarter to wait and make sure all mistakes are gone before…okay, I haven't actual gotten even halfway through the paper, but I have done the research.

But for Kyle to already be done with the whole paper…is nothing new, really. Shucks, he always seems to have everything perfect and way before it's due. I rub my knuckles together uncomfortably, a habit I was never able to out-grow from childhood.

The teacher sets up a class lab in the front of the room. I'm really happy today is a class lab, because that means I won't have to touch the dangerous chemicals. You never know where those chemicals have been or how much they can harm you. I've gotten hurt way too many times in science labs in the past. Of course, many of those times were because my lab partners—often Eric before he dropped down a level—tricked me into doing something stupid that wasn't in the instructions. But still.

And my partners often don't let me touch the materials anymore, which makes it harder for me to work on the lab. If I'm careful, I'm okay, honest.

The teacher asks for volunteers, and of course, Kyle is the first to raise his hand. He steps up to the front lab table and prepares what our teacher tells him to…and then some. She tells him to only follow what she says, but he explains, "If we do more steps at once, then we can save a lot more time. If the others can't keep up, then why are they taking this class to begin with?"

An exasperated sigh escapes the teacher. She's dealt with this often from Kyle, but he never seems to get the hint. "We need to go slowly because not everyone has already done the lab before school, like you have." She pulls the lab materials out of Kyle's hands before instructing him to sit down.

It's a normal occurrence in the class. Kyle tries to help, ends up trying to lead the class, argues with the teacher, and then gets sent to his seat. Once, he was sent to the principal's office, but she couldn't find any fault in his explanation and he was let off. He would definitely make an excellent lawyer.

I accidentally catch his eye when he walks back to his seat. His eyes widen once he sees me and he quickly glances away. He misses us, the group, I know. He misses Kenny and even Eric, and Stan especially. But he knows there's no way of getting back together, not after so long…He knows that once Stan left, everything else went downhill. After all, he befriended the unfriendable, Eric. And because of that, Kenny became a third wheel who eventually left—though I think he views it more as they ditched him.

And then…aw, hamburgers. I don't even understand what happened after that. I think he and Eric just can't belong together without fighting. Meaning that they must have lost that connection when they became actual friends. But that's only a guess. Everything was more or less in private, and Eric never did tell me, even when we were still friends.

But Kyle…Now, he's completely by himself and won't tell me anything. Well, it's not as if he talked to me too much before everything happened…

"What a douche," I hear from a few seats to my left. The high-pitched voice belongs to Wendy. Her notebook is out, but so is her cell phone. She is probably texting Bebe the newest dirt on Kyle and everyone else in the classroom.

I continue to stare at her in disappointment. Why can't she just leave Kyle alone? I know she still has feelings for Stan, no matter how much she hates him and his actions now, but does she really have to take out most of that anger on the one who abandoned Stan?

Please don't answer that question.

Next period, I have lunch, so I head to the cafeteria to buy my usual lunch. The food has actually gotten no better as we've moved up in the school system, despite the seniority we have for school supplies like chalk and paper over the elementary and middle school.

Once I pay, I head towards my usual table, filled with old friends from elementary school. Clyde scooches over so I can sit next to him at the end. I'm always last to get my lunch, thus am often at the end of the table. I thank Clyde and he tries his best to smile, but I can tell he's tired. And no wonder, sitting in front of him, on the table, is his new fad diet. I don't even know what it's called, but I can tell he's not getting enough calories to last a day out of it.

I watch the other boys at the table goof off like they normally do. Craig steals Tweek's coffee, takes a sip, and then puts it back on the coffee-addict's tray before Tweek can freak out. Token gushes about the party he hosted this past weekend. It was all right, but I left early because it was too much for me (and my parents would've grounded me if I stayed out any later). Nothing seems that different from any other day.

Eric sits off in a corner, angrily biting into his sandwich. It's homemade, just like the rest of his sack-lunch. But I also have figured out that he makes it himself, not his mother. He doesn't shovel the food he has in front of him into his mouth, but he does have quite a bit. It's comfort eating…

Kyle must be in the library, studying or doing more homework. He rarely eats lunch, as anybody can tell by how skinny he is. He doesn't seem to care, though.

And Stan can only be out back, with the other Goths, like always. I wonder what drug they've gotten their hands on this time. That seems to be their only midday meal…

I turn back to my table and try to smile and laugh with whatever conversation is going on, but it's always so hard for me. Apparently, I'm getting another blind date, though…It's a boy from another school. Oh, if only I could turn down this one, but they say he's extremely…rugged…and blond. Okay, maybe just one more blind date.

A few hours later, and I'm sitting at the front of the school bus next to another old friend. She's happily conversing with me, as do most kids at school. Kyle sits next to the emergency exit window, nobody opting to sit next to him and his large pile of books while he does more school work on the way home than most students do when they get home.

Cartman sits wherever there's room or some freshman lets him sit. Stan, today, is at the back of the bus with two of the Goths, Henrietta and Evan. Dylan doesn't take this bus home and Gorgie isn't allowed on the high school bus to begin with. Kenny doesn't take the bus home, but I can never figure out why. It might have something to do with others touching him, but I'm not really sure.

Why does all this seem so normal, and yet so wrong?

As soon as I get home, I begin writing the next chapter to my book. It calms me until my dad catches me not doing my homework. Say goodbye to that blind date this weekend…

_**~DAYS GONE BY~**_

_Stan stared at Cartman and Kyle as they walked up to their group of lockers in the hallway. It was a dull Monday morning and he was particularly tired. But Kyle seemed quite chipper…unlike the chubby teen at his side._

_Still, it was Kenny who let out a low whistle and asked, "What happened to you, dude?" The question was directed at Cartman, who had a black eye and a few scratches and bruises on his neck and arms. Kyle was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and his curly, red hair covered most of his neck, so their friends couldn't see matching scratches and bruises._

_Cartman simmered as Kyle just snickered. Kenny and Stan immediately understood what had happened and decided that further questioning would cause them to get pictures they never wished to see stuck in their heads._

_Butters, on the other hand, didn't immediately get the body language and instead rushed over to his larger friend, pestering him with questions, if he was alright, if he needed any ice._

"_I'm fine, Butters," Cartman replied icily. Kyle couldn't keep a loud laugh to himself and ended up shoved into the lockers. Both boys smirked at each other from their positions and began to make out hungrily._

"_Aww, guys, not in public!" Kenny cried, though he continued to watch the display._

_Stan just sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before going back to packing his backpack for his morning classes. Swapping shit in the middle of the hallway just never appealed to him._

_Rubbing his knuckles together, Butters tried, "U-um, fellahs, I really don't think th-that's appropriate in school…" He eyed Kenny and his fascination with the make-out session. The interest perturbed him, but he didn't say anything._

_Eventually, Stan spotted Wendy down the hall and ditched his friends for his girlfriend. Lucky for him that today they were actually dating. For some reason, the two never got out of that on-again-off-again relationship that began eight years before. Now, seven years after their worst blowout, when Stan began seeing the world as shit, things had finally slowed down so that they were together for longer periods of time._

_From where Stan met her half-way down the hall, Wendy shouted, "Ew, grow up, you two!" before walking away to her first class with Stan._

_In a way, though, they had indeed grown up from their constant bickering as kids. Now, most of the fights they had—and they seemed to have even more than before—were extremely more mature and philosophical…and ended with one on top of the other, lips connected…or a trip to the bathroom…together._

_The bruises, cuts, and Cartman's black eye were all proof of this newfound relationship. Well, it was newfound to them, as they only began to "date" a year or two back, when hormones got the best of them at one of Token's many amazing parties. Everyone else knew it was bound to happen, what with their constant fighting and the fact that neither had had any boyfriends or girlfriends—besides Wendy's few one-sided flings with Cartman and the same with Red and Bebe for Kyle._

_That still didn't mean that everyone expected whom wound up on top. Cartman's size comparable to Kyle's, and the fact that he more often was able to one-up the Jew than the other way around would've clued people into the obvious dominant one. But as their friends could see that morning from Cartman's black eye, he was actually the submissive one…but only after a fight, of course. His Jew never backed down, though._

_The bell rang for classes to start and Butters pulled Kenny away from his ogling and to his next class, which he probably wouldn't have gone to if Butters hadn't thrown him inside the room…and into whom became his date for that night, much to Butters's annoyance._

_One of the teachers, on her way to her first class, stopped by the two lone boys still lip locking against the lockers. She cleared her throat lightly, but neither heard her. "Boys!" she yelled, going straight from the quiet to the obnoxious approach._

_That got their attention and they quickly separated. Craig snickered from around the corner, spying on them and decidedly skipping first period, or at least arriving late, as the teacher then spotted him as well. The three were sent to class, only slipping into their classrooms a few minutes after the bell. Seeing as it was first period, they weren't marked tardy._

_Kyle and Cartman shared the same AP US History class. Kyle was fascinated by it, but Cartman always wished to bang his head against his desk. He did research on his own time, his love of history often getting the better of him, and he quickly assessed from the first day that this was one biased history class. Plus, he liked the history of the rest of the world more than the crappy old United States of Discrimination._

_His boyfriend often had to shush him in class so he didn't act up and try to teach the real history that wasn't in the textbook. He'd already gotten one too many detentions. Kyle, one the other hand, got to learn the real history while the two did their homework together after school. At the same time, he tutored Cartman in math so he could stay in the high level._

"_Actually—" Cartman started again with a raised hand, only ten minutes into class._

_Kyle was able to reach over the side of his desk and clasp his hand over his boyfriend's mouth, hissing, "Eric!" Several months of doing this at least once a day had given him great reflexes. "Sorry," he apologized to the teacher. But then, he screeched, "EW!" and pulled his hand back to his own desk, palm now wet with saliva. "Gross!" he cried at Cartman._

"_That's not what you said last night…" Eric replied with heavily lidded eyes._

"_Enough, boys," the teacher scolded. Cartman still stuck his tongue out at Kyle like a little kid. Nothing new at all._

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><strong>Author's Notes: Read the South Park Archives. Butters is good at math. And is actually pretty smart in general, especially in mathematics and computer skills. So...yeah. He's just a naive <strong>**little idiot. ^_- Cartman 'tis like me, though. Somehow in the highest math classes and yet...totally not getting anything, writing out the lyrics to my fave songs or info for my stories in ****the back of the room. Thus, I've been demoted to AP Calc AB instead of AP Calc BC this year. Boo hoo. I'm still gonna die. Why can't we go back to when math was simple? Speaking of ****which, Kyle is modeled after several people I hate in my math classes. Yaaay!**

**Also, about the other characters appearing: I know Wendy is smart, duh. But she's also a girl and best friends with Bebe. That is all. I'm neither supporting nor bashing Creek within this ****story. They're friends, as you can tell. Interpret what you will. Clyde is apparently the second-fatest kid in their grade after Cartman, but also seems pretty...vain. Thus, he's obsessed w/ ****being fit. Fad diets obviously don't work and he'll gain all the weight back and then some as soon as he's off them. Sorry if you don't like that, but I like making my stories angsty, duh.**

**Watch The Midnight Beast's "Friends for Never" and you'll pretty much totally laugh at how similar their relationship is to Kyle/Cartman((or Stan, I guess)). Yes, Butters is DEFINATELY Dru ****in the music video. Hehehehe...**

**Oh, and please don't complain about Cartman's character...yet. He's only been mentioned and explained a bit because the story calle for it, but this was still Kyle's chapter, even Butters's ****book's part. Thus, his thoughts and racism/anti-seminism will show soon enough. Yes.**

**Speaking of, would you like to continue on this train of thought and have Cartman next, or would you like the extremely under-developed Kenny next?**


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